


The Other

by EjBlaKit



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alone, Drabble, F/M, He's always so sad, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:06:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EjBlaKit/pseuds/EjBlaKit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A whisper of discontent in a sea of thousands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other

He breathes out a name in the dark, but doesn't like how it tastes.

It feels wrong. Dirty.

Dripping bitterness down his throat and into his soul. 

He doesn't like the way it feels against his mind, against his skin.

He rocks his hips gently, allowing a wordless sigh instead.

There is pleasure building, slow, sodden blocks of it in his belly. Rising from his groin, slipping through his chest and into his head. His limbs are heavy, full. 

It's a strange pleasure, a tickling sensation, a yearning. It's so slow in its climax, he wonders if he'll ever reach it. And that name again. Poison past his lips as he stares into the night, eyes glittering with unwanted tears.

A gasp, the trail of a warm hand running down his back, curving over his front, over his chest, grazing against nipples already over-sensitised. A deep, dark moan. 

The tears still fall and they are his as the pressure within him begins to build and twist, morphing into something dangerous and wanton. His hips move again, begging for it to end. Begging for satisfaction, for completion. And he's so close. So close to it. 

That vile name, dancing sourly through the air, drowned out by his grunts of release, warm liquid spurting against the flat of his stomach as he lies in his quarters, unseeing.

She's something else, her hips falling back to the mattress, her limbs graceful in their tangled heap. Her hair is dark, messy, eyes warm honey. She has been sated, made happy, but the name on her tongue isn't his. The warmth dribbling between her thighs is not his. The bruises on her flesh are not his. She closes her eyes against the man who is not him, her mind revolving circles around the ebbs of her pleasure, of her feelings. 

'Come for me, Kylo,' her thoughts breath.

He starts, sitting up, chest heaving. Alone in his room.


End file.
